


All Dressed Up As You and Me

by sweetiejelly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur find each other again lifetimes after. Too bad they don't remember.</p><p>(And then they do, thanks to the interference of a Dragon bunny and a Halloween party.)</p><p>Contains a bit of spoilers for 5x03. Inspired by the "night out" prompt on my <a href="http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/">cottoncandy_bingo</a> card.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Dressed Up As You and Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written belatedly for vertigo66's birthday. Happy belated, birthday, Kay! I hope this bit of Merlin/Arthur is okay. <3
> 
> Cross-posted to [LJ](http://sweetiejelly.livejournal.com/180007.html).

It’s not the castle at Camelot, not his familiar cot in his familiar room. The ground out here is hard with little give and little warmth, but Merlin finds that he doesn’t mind (much). He’s got Arthur all to himself and that’s a luxury of its own kind. (Though he would never admit it. God, no.)

A little while ago, they buried the old woman, the sorceress that Arthur – _Arthur!_ Merlin’s heart rejoiced – saved from an unjust burning. Merlin found some wild flowers and placed them over the dirt mound. For once, Arthur didn’t say anything about him being a girl. Not even when Merlin sniffled (but really, only from the cold that he’s coming down with and from the chill of the night).

Arthur tugged him closer to the fire and sat, muscles and chainmail pressed to Merlin’s side. There was a sudden influx of body heat, almost like magic. It made Merlin smile and he ducked his head to hide it. It was hardly appropriate, after all, to be happy right then.

Arthur didn’t seem to notice (or he noticed and chose to ignore it). He seemed more preoccupied with the parting gift from the sorceress. Arthur turned the horn over and back as if deliberating. And Merlin knew exactly what he was deliberating. He and Arthur – they are not so different as sons of parents too soon departed.

“We should ask Gaius about it,” Merlin said, nodding towards Arthur’s hands, where they were still restless, gliding over the smooth surface of so much magic.

“Yes, I suppose we should.”

Now they’re huddled together on the ground, two mounds of half moons, Arthur almost completely wrapped around him, a big silver chainmail of a spoon.

“Can’t have you die on me,” Arthur explains as he slings an arm over Merlin.

“Don’t worry,” Merlin settles his arm more comfortably over Arthur’s, elbowing his side in the process. “I’ll always be there to protect you, Arthur.”

Arthur huffs at the words (or maybe at the elbowing), sending a warm puff of air over Merlin’s ear. Merlin can’t help the shiver that comes. It makes Arthur sigh, mistaking it for a cold-shiver instead of its opposite. “Go to sleep, Merlin. You’re becoming delirious.”

\---

Modern day

_There is a deep bond between magic and nature; each feeds off the other._

That’s what Dr. Gaius says anyway. Merlin likes the old man, but sometimes he doesn’t know if the professor is right. After all, Merlin’s always had magic. He was born with it. He levitated toys to his crib before he could walk. He juggled them – look, ma, no hands! – with a single thought. He doesn't need to hug a tree for his magic to be.

All the same, Merlin is out here in the woods tonight, camping for an exercise in his course in Magical Nature at uni. He sits at the mouth of his tent and cranes his neck to take in the constellations. They really are beautiful. That he is looking back in time as he gazes at farther and farther away stars stirs something in him.

It feels like the niggling of a forgotten memory.

“Be quiet. And don’t move.” The voice is soft but authoritative and instantly irritating.

Merlin huffs as he whips his head in its direction. “ _What?_ "

The man – utterly gorgeous, tremendously fit, Merlin’s traitorous mind adds – makes an aborted shushing movement and glares at him. “Can you not follow simple instructions? I have been chasing that rabbit for a good twenty minutes and you've just lost it for me.”

“And _why_ are you chasing a rabbit in the middle of the night? Can’t you just leave the poor thing be?”

“Leave the poor…!” The man turns and throws his hands up in the air like he wants to punch something.

“Arthur?” A pretty girl with curls all around her face calls out as she nears. “Have you found Dragon, then?” One look at his face and her hope deflates. “Oh, I thought since I finally caught up…to you…” She trails off as she looks from Arthur to Merlin, who are currently holding a staring contest.

“Erm, so…,” Merlin looks away first. “Dragon is... the rabbit?” He feels like he has to ask.

“Well, _obviously_.”

“Arthur!” The girl glares at him and turns to smile at Merlin. “Don’t mind him. He just has this knight in shining armour complex where he feels personally responsible for everything, including a half-suicidal pet rabbit who likes to escape his cage and roam wild in the woods. Hi, I’m Gwen. Dragon’s my class pet. I’m an assistant for year two primary. My kids named him. That’s how he’s got this ridiculous name.” She rolls her eyes a bit and bites at her lips sheepishly, like maybe she doesn’t think the name ridiculous at all actually.

Merlin likes her immediately. “Well, I don’t think it’s ridiculous. I’m _Merlin_. So there you go. Would you like me to help you look for him?”

“Merlin!” Gwen beams at him. "Oh, I like you.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Arthur scowl. Merlin pointedly ignores him and chats with Gwen about her rabbit. Brown, big, eyes that are almost golden in certain lights – that’s what he gathers is lost.

Then Gwen's mobile rings. “Oh, bloody hell. I have to go. Lance forgot his keys again.” She says the last with fondest exasperation. “Sorry, but I trust I can leave Dragon’s fate to you two?” At their nods, she presses a quick kiss to Arthur’s cheek, turns and waves goodbye to Merlin.

“You don’t have to –” “Is Lance her-”

They both stop talking to take a breath. At the back of Merlin’s neck, his magic pulses hard. He turns toward the uphill trail. “I think Dragon went that way.” He’s never been so sure about anything in his life. In fact, he could almost hear the animal calling to him… _Merlin, MERlin_.

Arthur lengthens his stride and brushes past him. “Yes, because the _giant_ bunny has not doubled back. We would have seen him otherwise.”

Merlin tries not to feel hot, burnt where Arthur bumped his arm. But well, his magic hovers over the imprint, apparently fascinated with Arthur’s touch. He tries to sound casual as he replies. “Are you always an arse or is it just my company that brings it out in you?”

“Just you.”

Merlin snorts. “Oh, great. I’m special. Like the Black Plague was special.”

Arthur halts mid-step to look back at him. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, just making a not-funny joke, mate.” Merlin takes the opportunity to step ahead of Arthur and lead them in the right direction, off the trail now.

“No, you said you’re special…and something about the Black Plague,” Arthur persists as he follows. “Earlier with my Chinese takeout – I got a fortune cookie that says I’ll be meeting someone special today.”

Merlin lets loose a belly laugh. He couldn’t help it. Arthur sounds flustered and dead earnest. “I’ll let you in a secret,” and Merlin pauses for dramatic effect. “They mass produce these ‘fortunes.’ They’re about as accurate as a prediction by your Great Aunt Mary.”

“I don’t have a Great Aunt –”

“Seriously? _So not_ the point!”

“Okay, all right,” Arthur throws him a quick quirk of a smile and Merlin gets now where the phrase ‘knocking someone off their feet’ comes from. “I’ll let _you_ in a secret. My sister – well, half-sister – is a sorceress, some kind of a seer. At least Morgana’s had lucid dreams _about the future_ ever since she hit puberty. She saw that I was going to – that you were going to well, say what you said and –” Arthur breaks off abruptly, shifting uneasily on his feet.

“Oh,” Merlin crouches down on magical instinct and a giant brown rabbit jumps out of a bush onto his lap, as if on cue. Before he has a chance to ask Arthur what else his sister saw, Arthur has swooped down like a ninja and fastened a collar around the rabbit.

“Ah ha! Got you,” Arthur flashes him another one of those flutter-making, knee-knocking, crazy potent grins.

_MERLIN._

This time Merlin is sure the rabbit is speaking to him.

_Dragons are not meant to be chained._

“But you’re a rabbit,” he points out. 

Arthur looks at him funny. “Of course he’s a rabbit. Or did somebody fail biology?”

“Arse.”

_Unchain me or I shall escape again. The first time was for destiny’s sake but this time, it would be for mine and mine alone._

Merlin frowns at the rabbit. Who talks like that? And destiny? What destiny? “I don’t think he likes the collar.” Merlin translates the first part anyway.

“And you can tell that by cuddling him?”

“Oh, you can tell a lot about someone by cuddling them.”

Arthur’s cheeks flush. It’s a good look on him.

“C’mon, we got him now. And look what a good rabbit you are,” Merlin scratches Dragon between its ears.

_I am a dra- ohhh. What magical hands you possess, young warlock._

Arthur sighs but crouches again. “It’s on you if he escapes again.” He reaches over to unfasten the collar, his whole body pulling close to Merlin, his knees practically rubbing off the colour of Merlin’s jean, his nose so close every exhale is a caress. Merlin takes stock of the light chap of his lips, the way Arthur’s breathing seems too forced-even to be natural. And gods, he smells good.

Arthur crushes the collar into his fist and clears his throat as he stands abruptly. “I should let Gwen know so she won’t worry.” He doesn’t wait for a response as he turns and walks down the way they came, pushing keys on his phone and holding it up to obscure most of his face.

Merlin still has a fantastic view of the backside. He takes his time, ambling down the hill, scratching away at the rabbit who is (almost) the size of a miniature horse.

When Arthur turns to look at him, his whole face is washed with overlaps of emotions. Merlin could practically see the Venn diagrams – a round of uncertain here linked with a round of worried there linked with a round of hopeful. “Um, Gwen wanted me to invite you back to hers. But you don’t have to…”

“I think he likes me.”

“…”

“I was talking about him,” Merlin nods down at the rabbit. “I know _you_ don’t like me,” he teases a bit because he could and because Arthur looks so good flustered.

“That’s rubbish. I don’t _not_ like you.”

“Oh, good. I don’t _not_ like you either.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

Their eyes lock. Maybe it’s because it’s the first time Arthur says his name, but something about the phrase, the way Arthur says it feels infinitely familiar. Like a déjà vu except not.

“Tell Gwen sorry and good luck with this one, yeah?” Merlin holds Dragon out towards Arthur. Then he’s almost hugging Arthur as he transfers the squirming bundle over. Heat, he feels a blinding wall of heat. “But um, I need to be out here tonight. It’s for a class for uni.”

_I will see you soon, Merlin. Thank you for freeing me._

Merlin makes a mental note to ask Gaius about talking rabbits with illusions of grandeur. This is the first time a non-human’s ever talked to him. Maybe there is something to this communion with nature lark.

“Well, I don’t know what class you’re taking that counts gallivanting through the woods as a credit, but I’ll let you get back to it.”

Merlin tries to glare at Arthur, but Arthur is cradling Dragon to his chest with one strong, protective arm and the sight distracts him. “Arse,” he says without heat.

“I was going to say thanks for finding him. But since it’s your fault that I lost him in the first place...”

“Wow. You’re crap at thanking someone.”

“Well, I wasn’t really…”

“Complete rubbish, like I said.”

Arthur breaks into a grin, his whole face rearranging into something like sun beams. Happy. Blond. Warm, warm, warm. Merlin can’t help staring into the sun as he smiles back.

*

It happens incrementally – like the graceful turns and twists in the air as a diver takes off – and then suddenly, inevitably, like the plunge deep into the blue.

Merlin learns that his destiny and Arthur’s are intertwined. Without any stalking on his part, he starts bumping into Arthur regularly.

At a pub around the corner from his flat about a week after the Dragon incident:  
Arthur sits down next to him, clasping a firm hand on Merlin’s shoulder in greeting. They have a pint and talk about Dragon (collarless these days), Gwen and Lance (yes, they’re so together it hurts), Merlin’s hippy class (he’s got a pot of roses he is supposed to keep alive now, at least until the end of term), Arthur’s job slash classes (he’s taking a year off uni to help run his father’s business). 

And then they have another pint, until Merlin feels the effect settling over him, warm and easy. He leans a little into Arthur.

A little while later, he feels Arthur leaning back.

 

At a dog park near the uni half a week after the pub:  
Merlin is happy enough walking his friend Freya’s puppy for her. But his day brightens in the form of Arthur chasing after an unrepentant Dragon. “Look at him go! He’s got you trained, mate.” 

_Hello, Merlin._

“Shut up, Merlin.”

 

At the pub again another half week later:  
Merlin places a very soft “boo” next to Arthur’s ear and has the pleasure of watching Arthur startle and blush, like the tip of his ears had a lot to drink, gone suddenly dark pink.

“Happy almost Halloween!” Merlin grins at him.

“Another reason why I hate it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t. But only because I like the dressing up bit. You get to be a character, somebody else entirely.”

Merlin watches him closely and wonders what’s so bad about being Arthur. He almost asks but then Arthur arches his eyebrows in a silly, flirty way and the moment passes. 

“What are you going to be this year?” Arthur asks.

“Half a stone heavier from all the chocolate.”

 

At Elena – a mutual friend as it turns out –‘s Halloween party the week after that:  
Merlin doesn’t find his tongue for quite a while. Arthur is in a football uniform and it’s short and clingy in all the right places and Merlin should be having more inappropriate (appropriate) thoughts. Instead, another image overlays like the ghost of some Halloween past: Arthur in chainmail wielding Excalibur. Arthur with a crown.

“Merlin!” Arthur manoeuvres through the crowd towards him and Merlin tries not to black out from the sudden rush of clarity of who he was and who Arthur was/is to him. He tries to smile but it must have come out wrong.

Wordlessly, Arthur moves them to a quieter corner. “I’d offer you a drink but you look like you’ve already downed all the wrong ones.”

Merlin huffs out a laugh. Arthur offering him a drink. Wow. He shakes his head. “I have to tell you something.” He looks toward the centre of the party – where a Cupid is snogging the lipstick off a Bollywood princess – and looks back at Arthur, _his_ Arthur.

“Do you want to tell me _today_?”

The tone – so Arthur – makes Merlin smile. “I have magic,” he blurts, his heart pounding like a racehorse’s. “I was born with it,” he says more steadily.

“Oh,” Arthur says, “Like your name.”

“You have no idea.” Merlin feels half-hysterical again.

“Can you show me? Besides her seeing bit, Morgana can light candles with her mind and make pens move.”

Merlin nods and tugs Arthur out to Elena’s backyard. There’s not much of a garden but there is a lot of space, a couple of benches. Merlin pushes Arthur down onto one of the benches and kneels up, knees bracketing Arthur’s legs.

“This is all very magical, Merlin, but what exactly are you showing me? Besides what a tease you are?”

“God, you impatient arse,” he bites out. In response, Arthur’s hands settle low on his hips, and it gets hard to think.

And then he doesn’t get a chance to _try_ because Arthur moves a hand up over his back and urges him forward gently, until Merlin is pretty sure he’s falling straight down. He lands on Arthur’s lips and breathes sharp from the sudden spike of need and magic that screwdrivers through him.

It doesn’t help that Arthur’s other hand travels down, exploring.

It especially doesn’t help when Arthur parts his lips and angles his head.

It does help a bit when an unsteady guest trips and lands on them, lands half of his drink on them.

 

A little while later they are mostly clean again, sat on the rim of Elena’s bathtub.

“So.”

“So.”

“Who are you supposed to be? You look like… you.”

“Got it in one. I’m dressed up as a uni kid, as me.”

“That sounds lazy, Merlin.”

“That’s cause you’re a prat and you don’t understand. There’s no one else like you (or me). We’re unique like our fingerprints and snowflakes and stars. We’re the stars, Arthur. Who else is going to try to be like us?”

Arthur looks at him for a long while, a smile forming over his face like a sunrise. “You know, Merlin, sometimes you sound almost…wise.”

Merlin hits him with a hand towel.

Arthur pins him, easily, cages him against the bathroom door and steals a kiss. And then it’s not stealing anymore when Merlin just gives and gives back.

“You don’t really have magic, do you?” Arthur nips him on his collarbone and makes him shiver all over.

Merlin uses it then, summons a strong wind and switches their positions. He pins Arthur so fast against the door that Arthur’s mouth hangs open in shock. “Prat.” Merlin kisses him and kisses him until the shock falls away to moans and grips and _yes, harder_. If Merlin doesn’t know any better, he would say his magic turns Arthur on.

Arthur’s mobile rings and rings and _rings_ until he fishes it out and steps aside to answer.

“Father?”

Merlin knocks his head softly against the door. Of course.

Arthur ends his call and kisses Merlin tenderly, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb over and over the sharp slope of it. “Go out with me. Tomorrow?” 

Merlin takes Arthur’s phone from him and punches in his number.

 

They meet up in a theatre, to pretend to watch something or other. The butter from the popcorn stains their fingers.

When it gets really dark during a scene, Merlin brings Arthur’s fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“You utter, utter, nutter tease,” Arthur mumbles against his lips as they slam into the door at Arthur’s. (They chose Arthur’s because it’s closer and because it doesn’t house a flatmate, a Will.)

Merlin hooks a leg over Arthur’s hip and wrings out another groan. “Stop talking.” 

They yank off their layers, getting down to the heat. And then Merlin’s down on his knees, holding Arthur’s legs apart. Arthur’s gorgeous, like he remembers. Merlin walks his fingers up the hairy thighs and leans in, just to smell at first.

Arthur moans again and makes a tighter grip in his hair. “Blue. Balls. Die,” he says. Or some such.

Merlin hides a smile at the base of Arthur’s cock. And then he starts to stroke and lick and suck, humming as he goes.

Arthur doesn’t last. Merlin makes sure of it. He hollows his cheeks and looks up at Arthur under his lashes. He swirls his tongue around the crown and presses it to the veins along the length. He wets his fingers and draws a trail, two, between the balls and behind to the ring, where he teases and teases with fingers going round and round.

He swallows Arthur down.

When Arthur slides to the floor, jeans still pooled around an ankle, he kisses Merlin hard. “Your mouth should be illegal.”

“Hmm, good thing you don’t make the laws anymore.”

“Anymore?” Arthur halts in the process of sliding Merlin onto his lap and Merlin wobbles on his legs, sprawling ungracefully on top of Arthur.

Merlin grunts, frustrated, so close and yet so far. He stares down pointedly and pointedly, Arthur ignores him, waiting for an answer. Merlin sighs. “Merlin. Arthur,” he gestures between them. “A _Dragon_. Gwen and Lance. Morgana. Really? None of this rings a bell?”

Arthur stares at him and then tugs suddenly on his dick, just rough enough, just right. Merlin gasps and closes his eyes, melting into the touch. Arthur brings him off at a brutal pace, sending him splashing over, between them in no time.

While Merlin’s still boneless, Arthur dips a finger into the aftermath and lifts Merlin with his other hand, just enough so he could reach behind to open Merlin up. “Back right pocket. Put it on me.”

Merlin pretends not to understand. “Put your jeans on you?”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“Do you remember?” Merlin tears the packet open deliberately slow.

“I remember wanting.”

Merlin rolls the condom down, little by little with a firm grip. “Wanting what?”

“Wanting you to shut up,” Arthur fits his mouth over Merlin’s, to demonstrate. “I thought I was going crazy. Past lives and all that – I thought I had to be. Especially when the rabbit started talking to me.”

“What? Dragon – _oh_ – he talks to you?” Merlin arches back. God, but Arthur is good at this. It’s almost like Arthur’s made for him.

“Merlin, are you - ? Can I?” Arthur bites at his shoulder and kisses it and bites at it again.

“Yes, yeah. Gods, yeah.”

They don’t talk much after that. Not unless you count the gasps and groans, the moans and the slaps, of their bodies fitting together and again, and again.

Arthur licks his hand and wraps it around Merlin. And Merlin decides that Arthur’s hands have some measure of magic, too.

Merlin doesn’t stay that night. He has an early class the next morning.

But he does stay over on their next date. (This is the date where they figure out that they fit the other way around, too; two parts of a whole no matter which direction you turn them.) Arthur spoons up behind him and kisses behind his ear and down along his neck. They don’t get much sleeping done that night.

Merlin is tired but happy, in a more settled sort of way than he has been in a long time. Even his roses are thriving. “It’s all this happy sex energy you’re feeding them,” Will tells him. “Makes them breed like bloody bunnies.” Merlin tries to un-see the image, but alas.

Over a takeout dinner – Thai this time – Merlin learns that Uther is very sick, has been for a while. It’s why Arthur dropped out of uni last year. It’s why Arthur disappears on a moment’s notice whenever his father calls (or whenever his father’s nurse calls).

“We’re better this time. He’s better and I’m – I try to…”

Merlin wraps Arthur up in his arms and shushes him. “You _are_ better. You’re much less of a condescending arrogant arse.”

Arthur laughs and presses a kiss to Merlin’s palm.

They meet the parents (and Morgana) over Christmas, over awkward dinners and awkward afters. At the last one, Merlin conjures up a snow storm to get them out on the road quicker.

“You saved me,” Arthur looks over and grips Merlin’s hand in the one he’s not using to drive.

“Told you I’ll always do,” Merlin replies.

They spend New Year’s Eve at Gwen’s party, wearing silly hats and counting down to a new beginning.

“Any resolutions?” Merlin asks as he joins Arthur at one of the windows. They’re staring out but it’s so dark out that they’re really staring in, at the crowd, at their own reflections.

“Yes,” Arthur says to a burst of fireworks, to the reflected Merlin haloed there. “To go back to uni next year. To figure out what business I want to run, besides the Pendragon Bank. I quite like your mother’s idea.”

“What? Funding small businesses?”

Arthur shrugs. “Someone told me once that we have to be our best selves. No one else is going to do it for us.”

“Hmm, sounds smart. You should keep him around.”

“Well, I can’t seem to get rid of him, so.”

“Prat.”

“Idiot.” Arthur loops the arm with a drink in it around Merlin and curls him close as he takes a sip. “As if I’d ever let him go.”


End file.
